


FERMATA

by OfRosesAndRavenstags



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Dirty Talk, Dom!K, Dom/sub Undertones, I forgot the intercrural unfortunately, Implied Recreational Drug Use, M/M, Mild breath play, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking, Sub!Proko, Throat Fucking, cursing, mild slut shaming, tagging is my favorite part of this but i feel like i forgot something, thigh riding, this is mildly kinky:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:42:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9355601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfRosesAndRavenstags/pseuds/OfRosesAndRavenstags
Summary: The one in which K kinda punishes Proko, but not really.Also the one in which Proko is called "baby boy" approximately a dozen times.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware of the tagged kinks and notify me if I forgot any. :)
> 
> Title from B.A.P.'s song, FERMATA, because I'm a hoe and that's what I was listening to when posting this.

When Proko entered Joseph Kavinski's shower--for the second time that day--he was bruised and bloody: one eye a swollen, angry purple and his knuckles split with dried red reaching the backs of his fingers. His ribs ached increasingly with every breath as the adrenaline wore off. 

He had picked a fight with Ronan fucking Lynch. Proko didn't have a reason to fight him at the time, not superficially. Ronan hadn't so much as sworn at him, yet Proko had walked up to him and swung a fist into the Irish boy's face regardless.

Proko had known he wouldn't win the fight; Ronan had a reputation of being strong and fast and smart--adjectives that could also be applied to Proko, but not in the same magnitude. Prokopenko was strong and fast and smart, but he wasn't as strong or fast or smart as Ronan Lynch. 

But Proko had picked the fight anyway, if only because it had given K a few minutes of entertainment. K had smiled and cheered for his favorite forgery during the scuffle, making Proko feel whole for the fleeting moment. When it was over and it was clear that neither boy was going to kill the other, K had snorted and sped off in the Mitsu, leaving Proko grinning in the dust. 

"What the fuck is  _ wrong  _ with you?" Ronan had spat, offering Proko a hand anyway.

Blood had fallen from Proko's lip onto the concrete. "Many things, but you, of all people, should understand that." 

"He doesn't care about you." 

Proko had known what Ronan meant, known who he was talking about. It was obvious how K was cruel--even abusive at times. How K called people names and didn't show up to his own planned meetings and would always leave behind little but bruises and bloody noses in his wakes of crime and drug paraphernalia.

But Proko had gathered his keys and shrugged regardless, slipping into his car. "If he didn't care about me, he wouldn't have brought me back." The engine before him had roared with the turn of key in the ignition. 

Thinking back on it as hot water poured down his face and shoulders, Proko wondered briefly if it had been worth it. Cuts burned and the water hitting the tiles swirled with red, while his knuckles protested as he scraped at the grime on his scalp.

But, when he thought of K's smile, how he had beamed down at Proko from the hood of the Mitsu as Proko nailed Ronan in the gut, however; he instantly recognized that it was. 

Thinking about K had Proko reaching for his cock; he stroked briefly, the friction delicious and dizzying before he stopped himself, suddenly remembering and cursing K's stupid rule:  _ You don't get off without me there. Got it? _

A stupid rule, but a rule with consequences, so Proko switched to water to cold, watching as his erection flagged to nothing as quickly as it had appeared. He stayed there, hands braced against the cool tiles of them shower, until he felt he  _ may _ be able to wait for K to return. 

It took him a while, the time marked by his heavy pants and trembling limbs, the water pouring around him oddly soothing in the way ice is against fire: peacefully destructive. 

Exiting the shower was difficult; not from the pain, but from a overwhelming loss of motivation. K wasn't back yet, Proko knew; the dreamer always made noise wherever he went. 

All of the towels were dirty, reeking of weed or sex or mold, and Proko just grabbed the most tolerable and dry of the dozen. Mechanically, he wrapped it around his waist, lit the blunt on the counter, and let his bare feet carry him through the halls.

Just as Proko was about to turn into K's room, he was assaulted with the cruel sight of a near-naked Swan thrusting measuredly into a more naked Skov. Skov was pinned against the living room wall with his head thrown back in pleasure, moans floating past his lips into the stale air around them. 

"Shit, Swan.  _ Right there. _ " And Proko knew immediately where  _ right there  _ was; he shuddered at the thought of it before he could help himself. His fingers itched with need, and he could feel a drop of sweat trailing between his shoulder blades. 

Swan turned and winked at him. "Wanna join, Prokopenko? I think Swan would love to suck that nice cock of yours."

And the thought of those lips, all red and swollen, and that tongue, pierced and slick, on him almost made Proko say  _ yes.  _

_ Almost.  _ But K was on his mind and his dick wasn't quite hard again, so Proko shook his head and continued to the bedroom, ignoring Swan's answering snort and Skov's continued whines.

As he flopped to the bed, damp towel riding down further on his hips, Proko wished he could sleep or get high to waste some time. But he was far from tired and drugs would only make him more horny and desperate, so he took his phone off the nightstand and tried to distract himself with the latest top-grossing time-waster.

It couldn't have been ten minutes before his fingers itched and his skin felt too tight, his dick filling too fast for him to ignore.

He figured he probably had enough time to jack himself off quickly and clean up before K got back. If not, Proko would certainly be able to hear K coming and pretend to be sleeping or something.

Before he even justified it, one hand was slipping beneath the loose towel to grasp at the base of his cock while the other settled over his chest to pinch around his nipples. Proko groaned, letting his thumb slip around the slit of his cock and spread the beading precum around his swollen length. 

Distantly, Proko heard Swan and Skov chatting, laughing obnoxiously, but thought little of it as he cupped at his tender balls and started stroking at his cock in earnest. 

He didn't even hear the door open, not over his own weak whines and the slick sounds of his hand on his dick.

Proko was fisting at thee sheets, so close when he spotted K leaning on the open doorway.

Despite his eyes--bloodshot with dream drugs--K looked exhausted: his shoulders sagged slightly, his feet dragging minutely with each step across the hardwoods, and he just looked beat up (more than usual, anyway).

But all of this changed immediately when he spotted Proko. 

Proko, who had a hand down under the wet spot on the towel and had been too surprised to have stopped stroking himself, his other hand still white-knuckling the bed sheets. 

"Couldn't wait five minutes for me, baby boy?"

_I turned down Skov and Swan for you,_ Proko thought as his approaching orgasm shrank away, and it should have been bitter but this was K. "K--"

K took a step forward, grinning that evil grin he usually saved for starting fights. "Let me guess: you saw Swan and Skov going at it like rabbits--yeah, I saw them, too--and decided that you just couldn't wait any longer." K's tone wasn't harsh, not with his distracted gaze and the tenting in his sweats. "It's been an entire week, hasn't it?"

Proko believed briefly that he had lucked out; maybe K was high enough to forgive him for breaking his rule. Guilt and need itched at his mind, thumping dully at his skull, fading momentarily until K came at him.

As K straddled Proko and knocked his hand off his aching cock, Proko realized that he was far from right, just a he had been the first time he broke the rule, when he had been caught in the middle of fucking a very horny Skov and K had made sure to give him enough bruises for the entire town to know just who Proko belonged to.

"K--"

"Shut your pretty mouth, Proko, or I'll shove something in it." K pressed Proko's wrists above his head into the mattress single handedly, his other hand wrapping around Proko's throat and squeezing _just_ _enough_. Proko leaned his head back submissively, waiting as his vision slowly lost focus. 

"I was just going to smoke a little with you and then sleep, but, fuck it. You need to be taught a lesson," K spat. Proko could see how hard K was already, but it didn't rob the implied threat of legitimacy.

When K finally released him, Proko was gasping softly and muttering hurried apologies: "I'm sorry, K, pl--"

But K was relentless. "I bet you want me to shove something down your throat, don't you? You wanna choke on my dick, baby? You want me to shut you up?"

When Proko didn't respond immediately, K grabbed at his throat again. Proko tried to thrust up and drag himself against a hard thigh, his legs falling wide, but K pushed him back down effortlessly. "So fucking needy, aren't you?" he growls, but he doesn't sound  _ mad, _ because he never sounds genuinely angry when he has Proko laid out beneath him, all slutty and  _ his.  _

Sliding forward, K straddled Proko's chest, letting his cock brush against Proko's bottom lip. "Open."

Proko knows how wrecked he looks, knows how beautiful he is when he closes his eyes and parts his lips. K pushed in and Proko whimpered audibly, relishing the heavy weight on his tongue and the feeling of his throat being filled. 

"Fuck, you look so good like this, taking my cock so well." 

The praise sank into Proko's skin, and suddenly he felt so hot, like there was a fire beside him and he was too close, unable to get away from the flames licking at him.

K grinned, thrusted deeper until his pelvis grazed Proko's throat with every stroke. "Are you going to be a good boy?"

Proko gasped when K pulled away, but words spilled out of his mouth before he could regain his breath. "I'll be good, K, please. I need you."

"You didn't seem to need me earlier, when you decided to take care of yourself without me." For emphasis, K reached behind himself and gripped the base of Proko's swollen cock harshly, frowning when the boy tried to raise his hips. 

"Sorry," Proko murmured, his gaze falling to the side. 

"I told you not to move, didn't I? I thought you were going to behave for me." He gripped Proko's chin, forced the boy to look at him. "I think I need to punish you."

And Proko's eyes filled with panic; he knew what was coming as K moved to the side and hauled him up by the hips. He let himself be manhandled, let his limbs shake and struggle when K put him on his hands and knees.

"I'm going to spank you, baby boy," K stated lowly, dragging a finger down Proko's arched spine as though his intentions hadn't been obvious. "And with every hit, I want you to count them out and apologize."

Proko nodded and then the first hit landed, smarting instantly. He spluttered, rocking forward with the impact, his face falling to rest on the mattress.

"I thought I told you to count them out." 

Proko whined when K's palm smacked the same spot again, heat spreading across the flesh of his ass while pleasure filled his core. "Two," he murmured meekly. "I'm sorry, K."

"One comes before two, baby. Start over." 

And the hits rained down for what seemed like hours, varying in roughness and target. K's hand slapped Proko's ass until it was red and stinging, until Proko was leaking against the mattress and couldn't see straight. Proko's voice shook and cracked--from taking K's cock in his throat or from the exhaustion he was feeling, probably--but he counted the hits until the end, until K finally let him collapse and sob into the sheets.

"Shhhh, baby boy," K cooed, turning him over onto his back. "Do you want my cock?"

Proko couldn't imagine being fucked, but at the same time he couldn't bare to think of K leaving him like this, hard and leaking and needy. "Yes."

K reached down and tugged on the bar that ran through Proko's nipple, smiling when Proko whimpered and writhed. "Are you going to beg for it?" 

"Please, K, I want your cock, please fuck me." 

"I think you can do better than that." He let his mouth wrap around the piercing and pulled on the metal with his teeth, rendering Proko speechless. The piercing was fresh, had been red and swollen even before K's assault, and the pressure made Proko arch. 

"Please, K, no one can fuck me like you do. I need you, please, I'm sorry I didn't wait for you, I just want you so ba--"

And K must have found that more satisfactory, because he suddenly wrapped a hand around Proko's hard cock and stroked it, once, twice, and a third time before he turned his attention to his hole, curling two fingers inside.

This was something Skov or Swan or Jiang could never give Proko; they could call him any derogatory term in their arsenal, hit him around, and grip him too hard, but they never made him feel like this, so complete and full. 

"You can cum from this, can't you? Come on, Proko, let me see you cum on my fingers."

There wasn't enough air in the room and his lungs felt tight, but Proko felt his stomach tighten, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress before he  _ shook,  _ a choked gasp slipping from his lips before his legs gave out.

He braced himself, waiting to fall into a gross puddle of his own spunk, but K was there, with his iron grasp on his hips, holding Proko up. "We're not done yet, baby," he whispered straight into Proko's ear. "You were so eager for this, how could we end so soon?"

Proko lifted a shaky hand, his fingers briefly squeezing at K's own slender digits. 

"Put your hands back on the fucking bed," K warned, moving to suck a trail of bruises into the pale skin along Proko's spine. 

Proko was back to begging in an instant: slurred, hurried  _ pleases  _ and  _ lowers  _ joining together to form a nonsense symphony for K's enjoyment only. K hadn't even stripped and Proko felt destroyed. But he knew that K felt the same way, could feel his dick pressed hard against his ass, knowing that K was undoubtedly leaking and aching in his pants.

"I got you something," K murmured. "Dreamed it up before I came here."

Proko blinked up at him, pupils blown. 

K laughed, coughed a little, and traced his nails down Proko's nape, pressing down soft, sweaty strands.

Proko decided suddenly that he had been submissive long enough, had played K's game long enough and now it was his turn to get what he wanted. He heaved himself up, bit K's earlobe and flipped them around, only settling once his thighs were tight around K's hips, his ass bare resting against the ridges of K's stomach. 

"Show me it." A demand accentuated by Proko's fingers tightening around K's shoulders. 

"Make me."

And that's what Proko  _ attempted  _ to do. He used his long, lean limbs to keep K pinned as long as possible, but K was both longer and leaner, and so in the end it ended up being K back on top with Proko struggling fruitlessly beneath him, only occasionally freeing an arm long enough to land a punch. 

"I think you'll like it." Reaching back, K procured a small green bottle that had evidently been on the bed the entire time without Proko noticing it. K popped the cap off with his teeth, let the cool metal fall onto Proko's heaving chest. "Open up."

It was stupid how Proko's lips fell open, how he closed his eyes and let K spill the liquid down his throat without question, without any protest. It was him ignoring every cliche warning mothers tell their children, it was him accepting candy from a stranger. 

Except K wasn't a stranger and Proko was K's favorite forgery, not a dumb car or bracelet to be easily replaced. That fact inspired a bone-deep trust, an innate contentedness with anything K gave him. 

Proko didn't feel any different at first; a little warm, slightly more needy than before. But then K was touching him, and the touches no longer felt earthly. K's fingers were hot knives, searing through his skin but leaving him aching for more, and Proko whined when K rolled away from him.

"Come here, baby boy," he cooed, grinning at the look on Proko's face.

Proko got up to straddle K, cautiously letting his knees settle on either side of the other's hips.

"Oh, no, that's not what I want." He gripped Proko's sides and set him on his left thigh, staring up as Proko's eyes widened sizably. "You're being so good, baby, holding yourself back."

Proko was stuttering: "I-I no want, ah, s-shit, K--"

"Ride me, baby."

And Proko just blinked down at him, surprised that K was giving in this easy, that he would be getting what he wanted. When he moved to position himself over K's leaking cock, however, he was met with a harsh slap to his ass.

"Do I need to spell it out for you, Proko? I wanna see you get yourself off on my thigh. Ride it until you make a mess all over yourself."

The friction, when paired with a mysterious dream liquid flowing through Proko's veins, was extreme, and the first few thrusts left Proko breathless. K's thigh was hard, smooth, the muscles flexed enough to press up against the underside of Proko's cock so well tears pricked at the edges of his eyes.

"Ah,  _ shit _ , K," Proko whined, eyes closing as his head fell back. 

"You like that, baby? You should see yourself, being such a good little slut for me."

Proko didn't know what to do. His muscles were tensed, his hips making short, stuttered motions over K's thigh, but he really didn't know if he could come again, not this fast, not like this.

But then K had his fingers wrapping around Proko's throat--softer than before, but with the same underlying power, dominance. "Come for me, baby boy. Wanna see you."

This time, K did let Proko fall face-first into the mattress. Proko was panting, sweat rolling down his arms as his thighs shook. He groaned, fucked-out and whimpering without even being actually fucked.

K chuckled, bent down to lick a wet stripe across Proko's sensitive hole. "Still want my cock, baby?"

"Please." Proko was begging, and K was uncomfortably hard and leaking in his pants and looked as though he wanted nothing more than to fuck Proko fast and hard, but Proko also knew that K wanted to make this good; he wasn't overly surprised when K lowered his mouth again and started eating him out in earnest, holding him down to keep him from squirming. 

Proko was too sensitive; every thrust of K's tongue--and then his fingers--inside his hole made him feel feverish, ready to combust. He squirmed, tried to push K away, moaning.

Proko is being loud, and the others weren't far away, but K didn't quiet him, just kept rimming him slowly and fucking him with two long fingers until Proko's back arched extremely and his thighs threatened to fall out.

"Do you want me to fuck your throat or that tight ass of yours, baby boy?"

Proko didn't answer, his jaw slack and unable to form the words.

"Ass it is." There was the sound of a cap being opened and then the pressure of K's cock, soaked and sloppy with lube, pressing up against Proko before he was filled. 

And Proko couldn't do anything but take it, his cock twitching but unable to harden fast enough, not when K had been hard for so long, not when K was fucking into him hard and wet the way they both liked it. 

"Gonna fill you up so good you'll feel it for days, baby boy," K murmured between sucking hickies into the smooth column of Proko's throat. It was a lie--it was wet and good and Proko had been stretched enough--but it made Proko whimper and tighten around K's cock.

Out of the corner of his eye, Proko could see K take out another vial of the mysterious dream concoction and swallow it down, and then he could feel K speed up his thrusts until they were just deep grinds that jabbed at Proko's prostate over and over. 

He felt K sag over him suddenly, his thrusting growing weaker and more sporadic as he came until he slowed to a stop and gently pulled out. 

K leaned down, and Proko thought he was going to kiss him, but he merely mouthed at his ear, his voice low and gravelly: "Next time you break my rules, baby boy, I won't be so nice."

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.


End file.
